


Never Make a Deal with a Demon

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst and Humor, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Multi, The Hobbit Reverse Big Bang 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erebor is under siege. The people look to their king in this time of crisis. Thorin is hard pressed for an answer and desperate enough to summon a demon. Except, the demon he ends up summoning is the most undemonlike demon he could have hoped to get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Your majesty, what is your plan to get rid of the Orcs?” 

“What are we to do about food, Sire?”

“Your highness, they’ve poisoned the water supply!”

“What do we do, my lord?”

Thorin resisted the temptation to tear his hair out as his frustration grew. If he looked out his window instead of kneeling on the floor, drawing runes onto the stone with red chalk, he could see the Orcish camp, small fires acting as little lamps. He could hear their songs and their chants. They were, at first, only intending to starve them to death, but now aimed to poison them with their already dwindling water supply. 

The men who lived in Dale and Laketown either fled to the mountain or died attempting to seek refuge. The Elves were not numerous enough—that is, Thranduil was too cowardly—to come to their aid. The other Dwarf-kingdoms would not make it in time to aid them. There was only one thing he could do, but he had never done it before. Nor had any Dwarf successfully been able to do it, except one: his great-great-great-grandfather Óin. He had limited success, but it was success nonetheless, and he won the war he fought. 

It was said that the witch he had called on for aid, named Atropa Belladonna, was rumored to be of a certain clan of ruthless demons, the eldest daughter of a demon king. Belladonna wiped out Óin’s enemies in a single night. If Thorin could call on Belladonna again, then perhaps he could save his people before death claimed them. Thorin finished the circle drawing a pentagram in the center and stood. He had copied the runes from Óin’s journal exactly and now peered at the instructions again. 

_Once the summoning circle is drawn, think of the demon and spill your blood inside the circle. The demon will appear instantly, bound to you…_

“Thorin,” Called Balin from outside the door, followed by a soft knock.

“Come in,” Thorin said. The door creaked open and Balin stepped in. 

“Has the poison been counteracted?” Thorin asked.

“I’m afraid not, the healers are hard pressed to find the cure, but none know what it is the Orcs have done to it. There’s another message from Azog.”

“Burn it.”

“At this point, Lad, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“I will not bow to an Orc,” Thorin said, picking up the dagger. “I will die before I hand the throne to Azog.” Balin stared at the dagger, mouth pressed to a thin line. His eyes shifted to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m summoning Atropa Belladonna,” Thorin said.

Balin paled.

“What?”

“Thorin, summoning a demon can be disastrous! How do you know you’ve done it right? If the circle is incorrectly drawn, Belladonna will kill you rather than help. She’s too powerful—”

“What else am I supposed to do? We need the aid. I know the risks and I’m willing to take them. I have to at least try, Balin. Besides, no one else should bind themselves to a demon.”

Thorin approached the circle and slit his wrist.

 _Atropa Belladonna, I summon thee._ He thought. The circle glowed white when his blood met the chalk. _Atropa Belladonna, I summon thee_. The mountain rumbled with the force and something was being pulled out in the middle of the pentagram. _Atropa Belladonna_ —

“Sorry, but if you’re looking for my mother, you’re a few centuries late. To add, you don’t need to repeat the command. I heard you the first time.”

The light died. In the center of the summoning circle was a little imp of a creature who was unmistakably male. His clawed and furred feet were large compared to the rest of his body and a forked tale waved back and forth between his legs. He wore brown trousers and a green tunic with red trimming. His eyes were the same shade of green as a cat’s and bore a similar oval, pointed pupil. His hair was golden brown with pointed ears poking between the curls. Around his neck was a golden collar with obsidian runes Thorin didn’t recognize.

“Who are you?”

“You meant to summon Atropa Belladonna right?” the demon asked. “She died half a millennium ago, so you got the closest thing to her instead. I’m her son, Bilbo Baggins.”

“I thought you’d look stronger if not bigger,” Thorin said. “You’re an imp.”

Bilbo huffed and got to his feet, tail whipping behind him.

“I beg your pardon, Sir! I’m a level 5 Hobbit! Imps are not only weaker than I am but they are also quite rude! Trust me, you lucked out.” He stared at the circle and grinned before stepping out of it. Balin gasped and Thorin paled. 

“How did you…you aren’t supposed to…”

“The North rune is wrong. By right, I could kill you, but that’s a bit impolite, don’t you think.” Bilbo picked up a book as Thorin seized Óin’s journal comparing the Northern rune he drew with the one in the book.

“I swear I drew it right.”

“The T thingy is supposed to be in the middle, not to the right,” Bilbo said, flipping through the book. “But given the lighting in here, I don’t blame you for getting it wrong.”

Thorin huffed. “Then why aren’t you killing me.”

“As I said, it’d be rude. Besides, you called me. I’m guessing there’s a reason behind it.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo, then at Balin. Bilbo muttered under his breath about mortals and inaccurate records of history or something of that ilk.

Thorin wasn’t paying attention. 

“Belladonna is dead?”

“Indeed she is, rest her soul.”

“And has been since after Óin son of Glóin passed away?” Thorin asked.

“Who’s Óin? Oh, that one Dwarf that summoned her because he was having hobgoblin issues.”

“He called on her aid against an army of Men,” Thorin corrected.

“Is that what your history books say? Those books are woefully inaccurate! Trust me: it was a hobgoblin infestation in the mines of Erebor. Mum said he had a temper as bad as his breath. Course, best way to get rid of Hobgoblins is to just start singing and drinking at the top of your lungs. They hate merry making. According to Mum, it was one of her finest feasts.” He flipped through the pages, clucking his tongue.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. 

What had he summoned?

“You said you were a Hobbit?” he asked. Bilbo hummed an affirmation. “What exactly is a Hobbit?”

“Well, you already know that Hobbits are demons, otherwise you’d not have been able to summon me. But we’re demons of good cheer. We’re great party planners. The wine we summon is better than the sweetest Dorwinion brews and don’t get me started on our family recipes. We guard those with our lives. I’d sooner cut off my tail or shave my feet.”

“I have a legion of Orcs outside my kingdom,” Thorin said. “They poisoned our water supply and they will eventually break through our defenses. So I really do not need or want a magical genie grocer with deformed feet.”

Bilbo spun on him, frowning and eyes glowing eerily. “My feet are perfectly well groomed for a Hobbit and very shapely thank you very much! And I’m not a grocer _or_ a genie. You’re lucky you didn’t land with a genie. They’re tricky. You have to be extremely literal with them; otherwise, they’ll screw you over faster than you can blink! Trust me. A Hobbit at least will hear you out before deciding whether to help you or not. And I should refuse.”

“And why is that?” Thorin asked.

“Because you’re brutish and rude,” Bilbo said with a sniff. “But since your life is not the only one on the line, I’ll help you anyway.”

“How will you help us?” Balin asked. “I don’t see how a demon of good cheer can do us much good with the way things have been since the Orcs came.”

“First off is your water supply. You said it’s poisoned, right? I’ll purify it. After that, maybe I’ll help you with your Orc problem.”

“Do you understand what a siege is?” Thorin asked. Bilbo left the room and Thorin followed. “All our food is cut off.”

“I get that! It’s terrible. You can’t even make a decent tea! Speaking of…” He paused, spun around to face Thorin, and waved his hand in the air. A porcelain teapot and tray appeared out of green smoke with matching cups with tiny bluebell flowers painted on the body of the cup and a plate of shell shaped biscuits. “Have a cup of rosehip and peach tea and a Madeleine. You desperately need it.”

Thorin stare at the tray and condiments before him. He wanted to knock it out of Bilbo’s hands. He’d never dealt with anyone so infuriating!

“No thank you,” he said. 

“Suit yourself,” Bilbo said. He glanced at Balin. 

“No thank you, laddie,” Balin said. 

Bilbo shrugged and poured himself a cup while following the Dwarves to their water supply. Once in the reservoir, Bilbo sniffed the air. “Has anyone drunk this?”

“Not since we discovered the poison two days ago,” Balin said.

The tea tray disappeared and Bilbo knelt to dip his finger in the water and licked the water from the appendage. He smacked his lips.

“Hemlock,” he said, “Unoriginal and far too easy to eradicate.” Bilbo approached the irrigation tunnels.

“Unoriginal it may be,” Thorin said, “But it’s still one of the deadliest poisons ever known to mortals.”

“It makes a delicious brew for demons though. I wouldn’t suggest it for mortals. Which is a pity, it’s really good. My cousin’s got a wonderful moonshine recipe made with hemlock…but anyway, there’s a simple blocking spell. These bars,” he pointed at the metal floodgates, “Will become a sort of water filter. All the good stuff comes in, the bad stuff goes out.”

“What about what’s already in?” 

“The water will turn red and it will stay red until the poison is gone out of the mountain. It’s like a vacuum sucking the poison out of the water already in the mountain. The water outside will be useless now, but within.”

“That doesn’t really help,” Balin said. “Men live outside the mountain as do Elves.”

“I don’t really care about the Elves,” Thorin mumbled. 

“One thing at a time,” Bilbo snapped. “Let’s take care of the water in the mountain first.” He stepped into the water and approached the metal bars. He snapped his fingers, and a piece of charcoal appeared. Bilbo rubbed the charcoal against the bars above and under the water. The water glowed blood red and Bilbo stepped out. 

“How long will this take?”

“That would depend on how long it would take for the chalk to suck the poison out. The further in, the longer it will take. It’s like if you got bitten by a poisonous snake or something of that sort. And since it’s been a couple days, it’s going to take some time. In the meantime, I will summon fresh water from the nearest fresh, unspoiled body of water.”

“And how exactly will you manage that?” Thorin asked. Bilbo handed him a golden pitcher. “That’s just a pitcher,” he deadpanned.

“Again: I’m a demon, I can summon things—magical things. This pitcher will never run dry. Have your people bring buckets, pails, or what not and fill them. Give them all the water they need and no more than that. When your water source is clean, this pitcher will disappear and you can let them know that it is safe to drink from your primary water source again. It’s better than waiting and watching while your people die of thirst as well as hunger, isn’t it?”

Thorin took the pitcher. “Why gold?”

“Well, you are the king, aren’t you? It’s fitting that the king would have a magic golden pitcher, even if it will disappear in a day or two. Do you need a demonstration?”

“Maybe,” Thorin said. 

Bilbo took one of his teacups and held it up to Thorin. “Poor the water into the cup and take a drink,” he instructed. Thorin stared at the pitcher, looking inside. There wasn’t any water in it. He gave Bilbo a skeptical look before he took the cup and tilted the mouth of the pitcher. Water flowed into the cup. 

“Mahal above,” Balin gasped. Thorin stared at the filled cup and took a drink. It was cold and fresh. Bilbo crossed his arms.

“So, believe me now?” Thorin didn’t grace the demon with an answer. 

“You’ll help us?”

“Might as well. Besides, it’s not like I have much of a choice,” he said, pointing at his collar. “One bad rune or not, it still worked. I still managed to get here safely and I am bound to you until you dismiss me.”

Thorin hummed, finishing the water. “Kill the Orcs,” he ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo shook his head. “That I cannot do,” he said. “I’m a Hobbit. We don’t kill. We can’t. We’re party planners! Besides, isn’t that your job? Keeping your people safe?”

“I summoned you for the lone purpose of getting rid of Azog the Defiler and his army!”

“And I _can’t_ ,” Bilbo said. He tapped his foot and put his hands on his hip with a scowl on his face. “How about this: I’ll get them ridiculously drunk. So drunk, they pass out. Once that happens, you and your men, as weakened as they are from the siege, can slay them while they sleep. I’ll be a big loss for this Azog person, and there will be no casualties on your side. It might not be what you wanted, but it’s still a win for you. And I’ll stay long enough for the victory party, courtesy of me. I do love parties.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. If Belladonna was anything like this, he wondered how his ancestor managed her. He’d not had Bilbo in his service very long and already he was fighting a headache. Of all the things to have happen to him in a crisis: summoning a demon of blood good cheer!

Mahal was laughing at him. He just knew it. 

“But first I think you should worry about feeding your people. You know: just in case they decide you’re the worst king ever and revolt.”

“I hate to admit it, your majesty, but that’s a very good idea,” Balin said. 

All the gods were laughing at him.

#

Bilbo wasn’t sure why anyone hated going to the mortal world. So far, he was having fun. His “master” was fun to rile. He got a bit of tick on his forehead that looked like it’d burst if he was really angry. He had offered him tea, because everyone knows tea will help calm a person down even on the worst of days. Tea was a marvelous mortal invention if Bilbo didn’t say so himself. 

Sadly, Hobbits were the only demons who knew how to appreciate it. All the other demons were too stupid or brutish to appreciate the finer things in life. It was rather insulting to find out that many mortals and demons alike (by many, Bilbo meant everyone else) believed that Hobbits weren’t actually demons. They most certainly were demons, thank you very much. No one ever said a demon had to be a rude, tricky, brutish, muscular pea-brain like Balrogs.

Still, magicking enough food to replenish the people isn’t a difficult task, though Bilbo had never had to do this for an entire nation of people. And, of course, there were questions to how the king managed it. Bilbo’s presence wouldn’t stay a secret for long but he did hope to at least help them get rid of their Orc problem before he revealed himself to the Ereborians.

Which is why, three days since he was summoned, he went into the Orc camps. They were singing and laughing. Orcs, Bilbo noted, may be horrendous to look at and perhaps not on the…correct side of the fence, but they weren’t much different from the other peoples in the mortal world. They ate, they drank, and they joked and bragged about how many women they’ve had.

He doubted that one scout actually bedded ten, though. Poor sap ought to know if you’re going to lie, keep the number believable for your age. If he was older, Bilbo could believe it. Likely, the young Orc had only about one lass if any. In which case, embellishing it to three would be believable. 

If Orcs weren’t that much different from Men or Dwarves or Elves even—though Elves weren’t much for gossiping about their bedmates bosoms—then it’s likely they’d also enjoy a good wine and beer. Bilbo grinned and transformed into an Orc.

“Hey boys,” He called, rolling a barrel over to one of the groups sitting around a campfire. “Look what came this morning!” The group cheered, jagged and yellow teeth bared.

“There’s enough for all!”

“The general said the feast would wait,” An Orc sneered.

Bilbo twitched his nose. “Why does it matter? We’ve got the mountain surrounded; it’s as good as ours. If you scab rats don’t want any, then it’s more for me.” 

“Oh, no you don’t,” A second Orc snarled, “Share and share alike, scum. Bring the cups!” 

Bilbo led a few to more of his brew and cups were passed around as the Orcs drank. Bilbo grinned to himself before disappearing to the mountain and changed back to his normal appearance. He rubbed his hands together and went to Thorin. 

“They’re drinking,” he said. 

Thorin growled. Bilbo wondered why he growls so much. It can’t be good for his throat. If need be, he could make him a cough syrup…

“How long will it be until the Orcs are asleep?”

“I don’t know. Give it a couple hours or so. They’ll be knocked out soon enough. Just make sure your army’s ready to slice necks and stab hearts.”

“It’s cowardly,” the Captain of the Guard—a Dwarf as tall as Thorin, with a balding head and tattoos over his bared skin—said. 

Bilbo rolled his eyes at him. Warriors: can’t live with them, can’t teach them proper self-preservation. “That army’s huge. You can’t expect to face them sober and expect to win,” he said. “Which means ‘underhanded tactics.’ At least a spy master would appreciate cleverness over brute strength.”

“We don’t have a spy master,” Thorin said. Bilbo wrinkled his nose. Maybe it was just him, but he didn’t see how that was smart.

“You might want to consider getting one.”

“If we live, I’ll consider considering it.”

“Fair enough,” Bilbo said. “Does anyone want tea?”

The soldiers groaned and Bilbo pouted. “One of these days you’ll have tea and you’ll thank me.”

“Your services are not needed at this time, Demon,” another warrior—Víli, or Víri, or something like that—sneered. Bilbo glared at him. Oh, he had some ideas of what to do with him…at least to see him loosen up a bit. He turned to Thorin. 

“Do most of your men have a giant stick up their bums?”

“Víli is right,” Thorin said. “You’ve done your part, we’ll do the rest.”

“Fine, I’ll be in the library. Enjoy the bloodbath.” 

#

When Bilbo disappeared, Thorin sighed, massaging his head for perhaps the thousandth time. 

“Uppity little twerp,” Dwalin said. Víli snorted. 

“You have no idea,” Thorin said. “But his spell on the water reservoir worked. Uppity or not, he’s proven his worth once. Let’s see if his plan actually works.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Víli asked.

“Well get to that if we must,” Thorin said. Víli wasn’t pleased with that answer, but Thorin didn’t expect him to be pleased with it. 

“Not worried you won’t see her highness again, are you, Víli?” Dwalin asked, smirking at him.

“No more than you are to eye petite scribes,” Víli snapped back.

Thorin ignored them. It wasn’t a secret that Víli favored his sister, Lady Dis. Personally; Thorin wouldn’t mind having Víli as a brother. Better him than some unknown suitor from another mountain. To add, whomever his sister _did_ marry needed balls of mithril if they ever hoped to deal with her.

Víli might not survive a marriage to Dis, no matter how much he loved her.

Waiting for Orcs to get pissed was…interesting. Thorin wondered if he ought to be worried, but so far, everything was going wonderfully if anything concerning Orcs could ever go “wonderfully.” 

It was almost morning by the time Thorin and his warriors realized that the screaming and cackling laughter of drunken Orcs had died to silence. 

They ventured outside, watching the sleeping Orcs, some snoring, some piled on top of each other, others asleep on tables with their hands gripping their mugs. Thorin drew his sword and turned to his captains, drawing a finger over his throat. 

 _Kill them_ , he thought. 

Even if they needed the opportunity Bilbo had provided, even if it was necessary, killing their enemies like this, as Dwalin surmised, felt cowardly. 

True, some Orcs were awake still, laughing and wobbling on their feet as they continued to drink. Killing them wasn’t as cowardly, as they did attempt to defend themselves, as clumsily as it was. 

But there was one Orc sleeping Thorin needed to kill, cowardly or not, in order to ensure that his people would never suffer at his hands again. 

He entered the tent and approached the tall Orc. Azog sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. He lay on his Warg, who also slept, curled around her master. 

Thorin saw no signs of alcohol in the room and sucked in a breath. If Azog was sober, killing him would be harder than Thorin desired. Still, he raised his sword over Azog’s heart. The Warg opened her eyes and let out a bark.

Azog’s eyes snapped open and he roared, rolling over and grabbing his mace. He snarled at Thorin who brandished his sword. If he had to fight first, then he would fight. 

Azog swung his mace wide, slamming it into Thorin’s arm. Thorin’s weight brought Azog’s tent down. The Warg was caught in the fabric with Thorin, and both scrambled out. 

Thorin brandished his sword again, watching the Orc, waiting for him to turn on him again. 

But Azog only looked stunned at the destruction of his army. He growled a command at his Warg before mounting her, steering his angry eyes on Thorin before he fled.

“COW—” Thorin cut himself off, wincing at his choice of words.

If Azog was a coward for fleeing a fight, what did that make Thorin when he accepted Bilbo’s aid against them? Whether it worked or not, the bitter taste in Thorin’s mouth at the sight of their foe didn’t seem like it’d wash out of his mouth any time soon. 

“Are they all dead?” he asked Víli.

“As many as possible, if any live, we’ll find them,” he said. “Are you all right, my lord?” Thorin looked around the field as the sun lightened the sky. 

“No,” he said. “I am not. This is a coward’s victory.”

“Perhaps,” Víli said. “But an underhanded victory when one is outnumbered is still a victory. We won, Sire. Not the way we expected or perhaps wanted, but this way your people are safe to see a new day. We’ll burn the carcasses soon and then perhaps take a day or two or three to recuperate.”

Thorin chuckled, “Plenty of time to send the demon away.”

“Agreed,” he said, crossing his arms. “He’s a bit uppity for my liking.” Thorin agreed. Bilbo might not have acted insubordinately yet, but Thorin had the feeling it was a matter of time before the Hobbit tried anything. “Or you could keep him and we’d have that feast a little sooner than expected. I wouldn’t mind that.”

“I fear to make him use his powers more than I already have,” Thorin said. “He may not be the greatest demon we could’ve gotten aid from, but he is still a demon. He might turn on me eventually and I would prefer to avoid that. Go rest, Víli.”

Víli bowed and strode over the deceased Orcs. Thorin looked around. 

Sooner I get rid of him the better.

#

“Are you sure you got it right this time?” Bilbo asked, staring at the circle.

“I’m sure,” Thorin said, standing. He set the chalk down and clapped his hands of excess dust. Bilbo hummed and stepped into the circle, notably avoiding the chalk lines. His collar glowed white when he reached the center of it.

“Should it be glowing?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo nodded but did not speak, eying the markings with a deep frown and furrowed brow.“Are you absolutely sure you got this one right? It doesn’t look right at all.”

“I swear I got it right this time! Stop questioning me!”

“Fine,” Bilbo huffed. “I’ll stop. But are you sure you don’t want me to help plan that victory party of yours? I can make a chocolate fondue fountain for you _and_ also a cheese one to match!”

“I think we’ll survive without it,” Thorin said, dragging his dagger over his palm. “Bilbo, as much as I hated the way we defeated the Orcs and ended the siege, it was necessary. So, thank you.”

Bilbo grinned. “You’re welcome. I suppose you’re not as brutish as you first seemed.” Thorin rolled his eyes and squeezed his blood onto the chalk. There was a red glow that lightened to silver. Thorin frowned. 

Something’s wrong.

The light died and Bilbo still stood in the circle. He touched his collar and tugged on it. He glared at Thorin. “You idiot,” Bilbo growled. “YOU BOUND ME TO YOU!!!” 

“I…did what?”

“No thanks to you, I’m stuck here until you die or I die or…or…oh!” Bilbo’s eyes flashed almost golden in his anger. “I will make your life hell for this!”

Thorin stared at the circle then at the irate demon. “Stay there. Let me get Balin.”

“I can’t go anywhere, you jackass!”


	3. Chapter 3

“When I figure out how to separate the two of you, I’ll let you know,” Balin said, books stacked to his chin. “In the meantime, Bilbo, please be patient.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not going to find anything,” Bilbo muttered, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at Thorin. 

“I promise we will find something,” Balin said. “In the meantime, your majesty, what would be the harm in letting Master Baggins arrange the victory feast?” Bilbo grinned at Thorin, who narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. He honestly wasn’t sure he could trust Bilbo anymore, not after his bungle.

He asked himself, how does someone bungle this up? Thorin was certain he used the correct runes when drawing the circle. Bilbo sighed, tapping his foot.

“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you knew what you were doing in the first place.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Thorin snapped. 

“No,” Bilbo said. “You didn’t. I tried to tell you that something wasn’t right about this circle and you wouldn’t listen!”

“You never said anything of the sort!”

“I asked if you were sure you drew it right!” Bilbo shouted. “You are so lucky it was me and not something worse! The whole mountain would’ve been destroyed if you weren’t such a peon!”

“Bilbo shut up!” Thorin bellowed. Bilbo mouth clamped shut. The demon glared at him and struggled to open his mouth. Thorin chuckled. “Finally,” he said. Balin shook his head. 

“Lad, he is right, you did make quite a mess and if it were another demon, Erebor would cease to exist. All things considered, we did get lucky. How about you let him out of the circle and let him get the feast ready?” 

Thorin ran his fingers through his hair. “Bilbo you can come out and you can talk, but do not insult me.”

“Oh, I may not be able to insult you,” Bilbo said, stepping out of the circle, “But I will make you regret this, your majesty,” he bowed with flourish. 

“I said I was sorry.”

“That’s not going to get me back home,” Bilbo said. 

“It was an accident.”

“One I cannot afford,” Bilbo said, stretching on his toes to try and match Thorin’s height. Thorin wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just make himself bigger, but he decided it’d be prudent not to ask.

“I have a nephew who’s just a fauntling. He will find a way here if I’m gone too long.”

“That can happen?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “It can, but in the meantime, you’re getting chocolate and cheese fondue fountains at your little victory party. And lots, and lots of chickens.”

Thorin crossed his arms. “You’re not going to find many people complaining about that.”

“I never said they’d be dead,” Bilbo said, smirking. He strode out the room, tail swishing felinely behind him. Thorin turned to Balin.

“If that is the worst we really have to deal with, then we did get lucky.” 

Balin nodded. “The servants will not be happy, though. We’ll need to make chicken coops if Bilbo goes through with his…threat.” Thorin arched a brow. He’d not really call it a threat. Balin clasped his arms behind his back, “Though we might not need to worry about food for a bit. I’m not sure Bilbo thought that through.”

“Neither am I, Balin,” Thorin said. “Let me know if you find anything that will fix this.”

“I’ll keep you posted, Sire.” 

Thorin exited the room. He furrowed his brow at the yellow gold dripping down the walls and drenching the tapestries. He touched it. Warm, but not scalding. He sniffed it. 

_Is that…cheese?_

Thorin licked it tentatively. He nodded and blood rushed to his face. It was melted cheese.

“BILBO!!!”

#

Bilbo blinked innocently at his master when he stormed into the ballroom without a look around. He found that a tad insulting. Thorin seized Bilbo’s tunic and lifted him off the floors. “What did you do to the walls?!” he shouted, giving Bilbo a firm shake. 

“I said there’d be cheese fondue fountains,” Bilbo said, blinking innocently at him. “I never specified where. And the chocolate fondue fountains down the south hallway.”

It might be easier to take the king seriously if that vein on beside his eye wasn’t so…popped. Truly, that can’t be good for the king’s health.

“Thorin, there’s a growth on the walls!” Dwalin shouted. 

“The south hall has been painted!” Víli added, coming in from the other door. “Is it a—what is going on in here?”

Bilbo grinned and watched Thorin look around, his ire changing to confused discomfort. “What in Durin’s name have you done to the banquet hall?” he asked. 

The walls were decorated in white and pink ribbons tied to a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and secured by an iron chain. The tables were covered in fine cloth and gold platters already filled with various dishes of venison, potatoes, bread, and salads—which likely wouldn’t be touched. 

Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo’s tunic. “Fix the walls and get rid of the table clothes and streamers.”

“Why?” Bilbo whined, pouting. “Don’t you like it?”

“Not really. This is a victory feast you’re supposed to be setting up, not some dwarfling lass’…name-day party!” A hen screeched behind Thorin and Bilbo snickered. “And get rid of the bloody chickens!” He dropped Bilbo and stormed out of the room. Bilbo turned to the captains and shrugged.

“I guess he’s not a party person.”

“What did you do to the walls?” Víli asked. Bilbo magicked a tray of crackers and led them to the chocolate fondue. He took a cracker, dipped it in the fountain and took a bite. He moaned and his eyelids fluttered closed. 

 _Now that is good chocolate._ “Try it.” They both stared at Bilbo apprehensively. Dwalin went first, dipping a cracker into the chocolate. He took a bite. 

“Doesn’t taste like a curse,” he said. Víli tried it next.

“Master Dwalin,” Víli said, “That is chocolate.”

“The other wall is cheese,” Bilbo said. “Their fondue fountains.”

“Were you accounting for the tapestries?” Víli asked.

“They’ll be fine,” Bilbo assured them. “Genius isn’t it?”

“Not if it angers the king the way it seemed to.”

“You’re no fun,” Bilbo said, wrinkling his nose at Víli. “How about you two make yourselves useful and gather the army.”

Dwalin and Víli glanced at each other. Dwalin arched an eyebrow and Víli shook his head. They turned to him. “Fix this,” they demanded. Bilbo glared at them.

“If not for Thorin, then for your own sense of self-preservation,” Dwalin said. “Even if you enjoy riling the king, you will not want to get on the princess’ bad side.”

“I didn’t know Thorin was a father,” Bilbo said, smiling. “I like children.”

“The princess, Lady Dis, is the king’s little sister,” Víli said, crossing his arms.

“She’ll sooner rip your arms off than let this slide,” Dwalin added.

“And likely chop your head off and display it outside.”

“Now that’s not very princess-like,” Bilbo said. “More…like a siren or succubus.”

“She’s worse than both,” Víli said, shuddering. “I can handle a siren. I can deal with a succubus. That woman is the demon queen in the flesh!”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “Demons don’t have a queen. We’ve a senate. And Hobbits have their own government as is. The senate thinks blood sacrifice and cannibalism makes a god day.” Bilbo shook his head. “I will never understand that.”

“But if you did, Dis would sit on the throne and all would have no choice but to pay homage to her evil majesty,” Víli said. “So trust me, you lucked out.”

Bilbo hummed. “You like her, don’t you?” Dwalin threw his head back and laughed. Víli gaped at him, looking a bit too fish-like for Bilbo to be convinced otherwise.

“ _How_ in any way, with what I said, makes you think I _fancy_ Lady Dis?” Víli asked. 

“Well, sirens are lovely singers that can hypnotize males and succubae are the finest seductresses in all realms…despite being fatal…”

Dwalin’s shoulders shook. He cleared his throat. “The grocer demon has a point.”

“I’m not a grocer!”

Víli took a breath, glaring at both of them. “I am not, nor ever will be, in love or in any way fancy Lady Dis. You would do well to remember that, Hobbit, and never mention it again. Fix the damn walls.” He turned on his heel and strode away. Bilbo stuck his tongue at him.

“Well, I have to agree with him about the walls, but otherwise, he does tend to have his hand down his trousers when it comes to the princess.”

Bilbo grinned. “I’ll help him get over his protests, then. And if it really means that much, fine.” He snapped his fingers and the flow of chocolate halted and sucked into the cracks. “The fondue fountains can be found in the banquet hall. Now make yourself useful and spread the word. I want the entire army in the hall in two hours.”

“I’m not sure anybody will be ready that soon.”

“Don’t worry your shiny, bald head,” Bilbo said, reaching up and petting Dwalin’s scalp. Dwalin slapped his hand away. Bilbo shook the offended hand. “I’ll worry about the particulars. You just need to spread the word.”

“Very well, but mark me, Hobbit. If you cause the king more trouble than you already have, you’ll come to regret it.”

Bilbo arched a brow. “You’re terrible at threats. You know that, don’t you? I may be a demon of good cheer, but I’m still a demon and you will not like the consequences of what I might do to you in retaliation if you anger me.”

“Ooh, so scared. Enjoy your time here while it lasts, demon.”

He stalked off after Víli.

Bilbo clicked his tongue as a plan to pay back the mortal to whom he was bound formed in his mind and mischief made him feel nothing short of giddy. Bilbo grinned. 

Perhaps spending more time than planned in the mortal world wouldn’t be as bad as he figured it’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing BOFA today...not sure if I'm not ready or if I am...


	4. Chapter 4

The demon, Thorin decided, was going to be more trouble than he had first assumed. He can’t say how he knew this. Perhaps it had to do with Bilbo turning the walls into fondue fountains. Or perhaps it was shown in the way he decorated the banquet hall for the victory party. 

Who ever heard of ribbons at a victory celebration? Where they’d, normally, honor the lives of their comrades who fell in battle? Where they’d toast to another success over their foes and another few months or so of peace before a new enemy arrived at their doorstep?

Thorin sighed and massaged his head, eyes closed and mouth pinched, when he heard another squawk outside his office.

The chickens weren’t _bad_. If anything if it were possible to round them up, Erebor might last through a season just on the hens alone.

Still, he didn’t even want to think about the bloody chickens now strutting around the castle, cawing and squawking just because they could—and if no one shut the rooster outside Thorin’s door up, he would break its neck and gladly eat it for lunch! 

“Still working?” 

“Trying to,” he corrected. Dis shut the door and Thorin looked at her. “So, what is it that brings you here from the guilds today, my not-so-darling sister?”

“Funnier than a wall, you are,” Dis muttered, crossing her arms over her bosom. “It’s about the chickens. Why are there so many? Balin said something about you being fool enough to summon a demon and if you really did, than how is it you’re still breathing and the mountain still standing—copious amounts of hens aside.”

Thorin never cowered before his sister. He knew her weak spots just as well as she knew his. She’d find out about Bilbo sooner or later and the sooner the better anyway. He thought she’d have figured it out by now, and if she had, then Thorin really was fooled. 

The glint in her eye told him that she was very much aware of his idiocy at summoning Bilbo without her knowledge (or consent, if she was to be believed that she, in fact was the brains behind the throne). 

So he told her about Bilbo and his latest mistake involving the demon.

“So he’s retaliating with chickens,” she summarized. “Are you certain you summoned a demon?”

“Yes, I’m sure. The circles worked, and he does obey me…he’s just…doesn’t really act like a demon. At least not the way I expected. Mahal’s hammer, he’s a demon of good cheer, Dis! I was expecting something closer to a Balrog and I ended up with him!”

“Well next time, you’ll send word to the wizards before making and hasty decisions like that! Because of your own little fuck-up, I’m about to be buried in chicken shit!” She shouted. Thorin blinked and wondered whether it would be wise to antagonize her.

He decided against it. As fun as it was to rile his sister up, Dis could be quite nasty when she wanted to be. Thorin suspected she might desire to strangle him if he teased her about having to be wary of chicken feces. 

“I will tell him to get rid of the chickens and clean the mountain,” he said. “I can’t guarantee that he’ll behave.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Dis said, sweeping out of the room. 

Thorin leaned back in his seat once the door had closed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, hoping for a moment of peace and quiet. 

“Ba-gawk,” a hen cawed at him. Thorin stared at her and the hen bit his pant leg. Thorin shoved her away with his boot. They were thick, leather boots that came to his knees. He wasn’t too worried about an angry chicken pecking his feet.

He stood and slammed the door open. “BILBO!!!”

“Yes oh grumpy one?” Thorin spun on his heel, startling the hen into flight. She ruffled her feathers and strutted away, glad to be outside the office and with her companions. Bilbo had made himself comfortable on a floating carpet, lying on his belly and grinning at Thorin. “How many I help you, Master?”

“Get rid of the cluckers.”

Bilbo frowned and tapped his chin. “Well, I guess the farmers will be missing their hens…but if you keep them, you’ll be well stocked for winter.”

“We’ll manage,” Thorin growled, despite knowing that Bilbo was right. “Send them back before my sister hunts you down.”

“See, that’s another thing,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?”

“Hobbit…”

Bilbo stuck his tongue out at Thorin and snapped his fingers. Save for a few feathers floating in the air, the chickens were gone. The gobs of white bird crap staining the stone and the stench still surrounded him.

Thorin closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “The mess too,” he sighed.

“You’ve servants can handle it and I’ll admit it’s worse in the lower levels anyway.”

“It is not their mess to clean! Do as I say, or I’ll…I’ll…”

“You’ll…you’ll…do you even know a standard spell? No? Wonderful!” Bilbo cried, clapping his hands together and grinning brightly. “You can’t even torture me! I really lucked out.”

“You are still bound to obey me!” Thorin shouted. “And I command you to clean up the mess the chickens you summoned made!”

Bilbo turned on his back, clapped his hands together again and rubbed the palms together, “Um…no.” Thorin ground his teeth together and strode under the carpet. He jumped, trying to grab one of the threads, woefully and yet hilariously unsuccessful.

“Get down here! I’ll wring your neck!”

“How’s that for gratitude? I’m helping you throw a party after all!”

“Bilbo, I swear to Mahal, I will skewer you!”

“Then I’ll just stay up here. You’ll just have to accept that I take one command or demand per hour. Or, you could ask me to clean up the mess politely.”

Thorin bellowed, trying, again, to grab the carpet. He threw his hands up and took a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Please. Clean up. The mess,” he hissed. 

“If you insist,” Bilbo said, sitting up. He grinned down at Thorin. “By the way, I already did.” 

Thorin sputtered and looked around. The feathers and shit were gone. There was a scent akin to lavender in the air. He’ll need to check with Dis to make sure Bilbo hadn’t lied to him, especially about the bird crap, but otherwise…

Thorin’s lip curled into a snarl. The demon was more trouble than he was worth! 

“Dinner’s in an hour, so use the time wisely and clean yourself up. Meditate if you must. That vein looks ready to pop. _Galu_ ,” he vanished and the carpet fell, covering Thorin’s head. He pulled it off and scrunched the fabric up into a ball.

Bilbo was way more trouble than he was worth!

He tossed the carpet at a hapless servant girl and stormed back into his office.

#

Thorin should’ve expected this. But as he nursed a pounding head, it was difficult to remember much of what happened at the feast. 

He remembered going. He remembered giving a heart wrenching (if he did say so himself, never mind Balin falling asleep midway through it) speech to his army. He remembered eating, drinking, laughing…but after that, all he remembered was the continuous stream of ale burning in his belly.

No one had come to get him. And what had woken him was a shriek down the hall. He vaguely pinpointed that the noise came from his sister’s room. Normally, he’d jump out of bed to see what was wrong, but at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself care.

Any movement would make him vomit from the way the room spun. He wished she wouldn’t scream so loudly. His head hurt too much to bother about whatever has gotten into her skirts.

She didn’t give a shit about his state of sanity and sobriety, apparently, as she threw item after item at the wall. Doors banged open and Thorin groaned. He’d have to see what was wrong eventually…might as well investigate now. 

Dis was throwing glassware and trinkets at Víli.

“I swear, I don’t remember what happened last night! My lady, please believe me!” 

“You were in my bed!” She shrieked, managing to lob him just above the eye with a globe. 

“But I don’t know how I got into your bed!” Víli shouted, pressing his hand to the wound. Thorin blinked. He was going to need another drink to deal with this rationally.

“Good morning,” Bilbo said, materializing beside him. He was too cheery. Thorin wanted to kill him. “Entertaining isn’t it? Your sister’s delightful, by the way.”

“Depends on your definition of delightful,” Thorin said as Víli dodged another glass figurine.

“Personally, I think she’s a monster.”

“Each to their own,” Bilbo said. “Oh, Lady Dis, I offer congratulations.” 

They paused. Dis rounded on Bilbo, who swayed on his feet. Thorin stared between her and Víli, who looked like he was about to be sick. 

“Well, not that you’d have realized anything yet. Far too soon for anyone here to have noticed,” Bilbo said, scratching his chin. “But children are lovely. Aren’t they?” He winked at Víli.  
Thorin blinked, putting things together. Dis was pregnant. Víli was responsible, if his waking beside Dis meant anything. No. She couldn’t be! Well, he knew she could, technically…but with Víli? True, Víli was in love with her, but…it was _Víli_! He might love Dis, but he wasn’t a fool.

That was unacceptable. 

“Again, congratulations,” Bilbo said, disappearing.

Dis leaned against the wall, pale. Víli blinked, wincing as he poked at his injury.

Thorin turned on Víli. “Can I have a word?”

“I don’t remember anything!” Víli said frantically. 

“The evidence is overwhelming and I pray the demon is lying—”

“So am I!”

“In the meantime, just keep it down. I will care when my hangover is gone.”

“You’re not going to do anything about this?” Dis shrieked. Thorin winced. 

“I will,” he promise. “Can I get sober first? After I’m sober, I will decide what to do about it. In the meantime, just get the guards. Arrest Víli, but don’t do anything stu… _rash_. Don’t do anything rash. Just…just take him to the dungeons. And get a midwife to look at you, just in case.”

He retreated back to his room and locked the door behind him. Thorin shook his head. 

_Why me? Why now? Why at all?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Elfish-Sindarin~  
> Galu=Goodbye/good luck


	5. Chapter 5

If anyone said demons couldn’t feel remorse, they lied. Demons couldn’t be lumped into one big category! There were too many. Afrits wouldn’t feel guilt. Genies would be too busy laughing at your own lack of sense to feel it. And Balrogs were simply too stupid to bother. 

Hobbits, though, could feel remorse. They could feel guilt and sorrow. They especially felt guilty when their actions hurt someone they didn’t have any problems with and that was why Bilbo laid a decent spread of food in front of Víli, who eyed it suspiciously.

“What is this?”

“Food,” Bilbo deadpanned. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I know that,” he snapped. “Why should I trust it? Did Thorin send you to poison me for impregnating his sister?”

“He wouldn’t do that and neither would I!” Bilbo said, pouting. “It’s not going to go bad, I just…I didn’t think you’d get into this much trouble if you were caught with his sister. Besides, you and Lady Dis make a very lovely couple.”

“Doubtful.”

“Fine, don’t trust me,” Bilbo huffed. “I never meant to cause this much trouble.”

“Actually you did,” Víli said, glaring at him. 

Bilbo bounced on the balls of his feet. “All right, yes I did, but not because I’ve an issue with you, because I don’t. It’s Thorin’s fault I’m stuck here after all and I just…” Bilbo huffed again. “Just eat. Please. I’ll feel better about this whole thing and we can move on with our lives, right?”

Víli shook his head. “Do you even know how to apologize?”

“Of course I do! I’m giving you food, aren’t I?” 

“Giving me food is not going to make me forgive you.”

“In my defense, you did drink quite a lot.”

“All the more reason not to trust anything you give me,” Víli sneered. 

Bilbo frowned, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. His collar burned again. Thorin was looking for him. “Well, I hope you change your mind. Enjoy your meal.” He turned, moving from the dungeons to Thorin’s office.

The king and Balin grinned at him.

“What is it?” Bilbo asked.

“We think we found a way to get you home,” Balin said. 

Bilbo clicked his tongue. “Think” was not going to be good enough. Thorin bungled things up a little too much for Bilbo to be confident in his ability to do…well…anything, really.

He was kind of pathetic, if Bilbo was to be asked. Not that anyone bothered to ask him. The king wasn’t a wizard at all nor knew anything about summoning demons.

 _Mortals are vain folk, Bilbo_ , his mother had said. _They think they know everything but when push comes to shove, they’re all smoke and mirrors. They wouldn’t know a proper summoning spell from their own backside._

Thorin certainly was that kind of mortal. It annoyed Bilbo, if nothing else.

“I’m going to need more than a think,” he said. “Otherwise I am not convinced.”

Thorin frowned at Bilbo and narrowed his eyes. “I trust Balin’s judgment.”

“I never said anything against his judgment,” Bilbo clasped his hands behind his back, “Just that I’m not convinced that you know what you’re doing. And unless Mr. Balin has prior experience with how to deal with demons, I can’t say I really trust what he found.”

“By all means, take a look yourself,” Balin said, pushing the book toward him. Bilbo took it.  
He clicked his tongue. “That’s a summoning circle. A dismissing circle has the opposite runes.”

“You can correct it then, can you?” Thorin asked.

“If I could, I would have drawn it already and have you send me home,” Bilbo snapped. “I can’t touch chalk because chalk is made of limestone and limestone is rather acidic to my people specifically. Salt is worse, we can’t even cross that if we wanted to. Don’t you recall I could walk out of the circle unharmed?”

“But I drew it in chalk,” Thorin said.

“I walked between the lines. I can pass over it, but I cannot touch it.”

Balin sighed. “I’ll keep looking, but we should consider sending word to the wizards.”

“Thank you! Finally! Some sense!”

“Bilbo, shut up,” Thorin ordered. His mouth clamped shut and he couldn’t move his lips. Bilbo scowled at him and crossed his arms. Thorin turned to Balin, “Balin, would you please send word to the Istari as soon as possible? I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Balin sighed and closed the book. “I’ll keep looking,” he said. Once he closed the door behind him, Thorin turned on Bilbo. 

“Now you listen to me,” Thorin growled, seizing Bilbo’s tunic. “You will fix my sister. You will not cause me more trouble. You will behave yourself. Is that clear?”

Bilbo nodded and pointed at his mouth.

“I’m not feeding you.” 

Bilbo shook his head. _I need to talk, you idiot_. He pointed at his mouth again and watched understanding light up on Thorin’s face.

“You may speak after you’ve left the room,” Thorin said.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and walked out the door. His lips loosened and he turned to Thorin before he could close the door. “I can’t fix your sister because there’s nothing wrong with her,” Bilbo said. “She’s pregnant, not broken. Besides, Víli’s been making goo-goo eyes at her for ages, I’ll bet. If anything, I just gave him a push.”

“Yes, a push off a cliff.”

“You could just have them get married if a pregnancy is such a big deal.”

“No,” Thorin said, “My sister is too evil to force on anyone, pregnant or not. Which might just make everything worse…”

“Well, think of it this way: You have an heir now,” Bilbo said. “You wouldn’t want anything happening to the little one, would you?”

Thorin gaped at him, “Of course not! I’m not asking you to kill the child, just…maybe…magic it to another family who may need a child.”

Bilbo sucked in a breath. “That’s too dangerous.”

Thorin blinked, “Dangerous how?”

Bilbo hummed. “Considering I could do it, there’s no promise that the new parents would be trustworthy. Especially if they don’t know what’s going on. One might think the mother cheated her husband. So there’s that and it could cause the babe to grow up in a broken home. And if I can’t, the child will likely die.”

At least Thorin had the decency to realize what he had asked. “I’ll discuss it with her. But that is incentive to keep it.”

“And if you say the child will be your heir, then you don’t have to worry about getting married.”

“Well there’s that,” Thorin agreed. “Hopefully my sister will listen…”

“I’m sure she will. I think she’d be a great mother.”

“This is still all your fault,” Thorin snapped. “I may make you marry her.”

“I thought you’d not wish that on anyone,” Bilbo said, “And no thanks. Víli’s mad enough at me. I’d rather not deal with jealous future-daddies, thank you.”

Thorin wrinkled his nose. “No, that doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“I didn’t think so. The second and third requests I will do my utmost best to do,” Bilbo said with a bow. But no one said anything about whether or not your guards would behave themselves, he thought to himself. 

#

“Have you seen Dwalin?” Dis asked, entering the room, followed by a train of seamstresses trying to get measurements for her wedding gown. Thorin furrowed his brow and shook his head. 

“I thought I assigned him to guard you until the wedding.” It was either Dwalin or Víli and since Víli was the groom…yeah, even Bilbo—the stinking bilge rat!—agreed.

It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bridal dress before the wedding, he had announced, hands clasped behind his back and rocking on his feet. 

“You did,” she said. “I’m sure you did.”

Thorin stood. “I’ll get you another guard while I look for him.”

“You need a break, don’t you?”

“The letters are blurring and my mouth is dry. I definitely need a break.”

“Well go on then,” Dis said, waving her hand. Thorin barked at a guard, telling him to stay with his sister while he went looking for Dwalin with the aid of several other guards who knew his haunts as well as Balin, who went with him to Dwalin’s house. 

Thorin banged on the door. A moment passed and he and Balin started at the thud and string of curses within. They looked at each other and the door opened. Thorin winced while Balin—in pure, brotherly fashion—laughed. 

“Shut up. What?”

“You’re supposed to be with my sister, Dwalin,” Thorin snapped. 

“What…it’s the middle of the night?”

“Day, Dwalin. It’s daytime,” Balin said. Dwalin blinked. “Are you drunk?”

“I was…”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Was it from Bilbo?”

“No. I don’t think so. Some of the lads and I had a drink or two and I guess we had a few too many or…it was too strong…”

“Dwalin,” someone called down the hall.

Thorin arched a brow while Balin peered behind Dwalin’s bulk despite Dwalin’s attempts at blocking his view. Thorin did the same.

A young Dwarf, perhaps a newly come of age adult (otherwise Thorin was going to give both his captains a stern talking to about indulgence—true it’d make him a hypocrite, but it had to be done. Even he knew when it was okay to overindulge) stood in the hallway. 

“Sorry, Ori, I have work,” Dwalin said, returning to the Dwarf’s side and kissing him. Thorin gagged and Balin beamed mischievously while Dwalin fled to the bedroom to make himself presentable. 

“We’ll just wait outside,” Thorin said, closing the door. He turned on Balin. “No.”

“What?”

“You’re going to leave the kid alone.”

Balin crossed his arms and sniffed. “Depends on who’s the poor kid: Ori or Dwalin?”

“Ori, definitely,” Thorin said, a smirk climbing his face. “Dwalin’s fair game, you can do whatever you like to him. I have no power over how you treat your little brother.”

Balin grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Believe me, I have ideas.”

Thorin winced. “Uh-huh. Have fun with that.” 

“Oh I will.”

Dwalin came out, somewhat presentable. “Sorry about that.”

“So who’s Ori?” Balin asked. “And why haven’t I met him yet?”

“Because you’re evil incarnate and I am ashamed to call you my brother, you tactless piece of swine,” Dwalin growled.

“I’m tactless?”

Thorin tuned him out. Perhaps he’d just call this a hiccup and leave it at that. There was no proof Bilbo did do this, after all. He was ordered to behave. 

Somehow, Thorin felt that wouldn’t actually amount to much.

Bugger.


	6. Chapter 6

Thorin kept shooting him glares as though he expected Bilbo to do something he shouldn’t. Like maybe get everyone drunk or cover the walls in frills or place doilies everywhere. 

Bilbo didn’t think he was that cruel. He wasn’t going to get anyone drunk till the wedding feast. Besides, that’s when people normally got drunk. For now, he was quite happy to watch the ceremony from the back wall. 

He loved weddings.

Weddings were fun.

They’re more fun when the bride didn’t look angry and the groom scared. Even the new brother-in-law seemed worried and it wasn’t for his sister. Despite the wariness and tension floating through the air, Bilbo new they’d get used to the idea of being together. 

Maybe fall in love. 

He was only trying to help after all. 

Thorin caught his eye again and Bilbo grinned innocently. When the ceremony was over at last, he approached Bilbo.

“What are you planning?” Thorin demanded.

“I’m not planning anything!”

“The wine isn’t from you is it?”

“And if it is?” Bilbo asked. “Look, you told me to behave. I’m behaving. I cannot control how much they drink, on the other hand. So think about it: will it really be my fault if something crazy happens because of the quantity of alcohol your warriors consume?”

Thorin huffed and crossed his arms, “Fair enough.”

“See, we can get along. Yu just need to let go of all that anger and stop furrowing your brow. You’re going to get wrinkles.” He pushed his finger against Thorin’s forehead and his hand was slapped away. His claw accidently left a scratch down Thorin’s face. Bilbo’s eyes widened and Thorin sighed, rubbing the scratch.

“I hate you.”

“It’s just a scratch. It’s not as though it’s going to scar very bad. Besides you didn’t have to hit my hand.” Thorin clenched and unclenched his hands before striding away. Bilbo’s tail swished happily. 

He’ll never know.

#

Bilbo slipped the wine out of Dis’ hand. “Not until the baby’s born,” he said, rubbing her belly.

She smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Fine, but at least you’ll be able to watch everyone else make asses of themselves,” he said. 

Dis hummed. “True. So, why exactly did you do this to me?”

“Well, technically, my lady, I didn’t do anything. Víli approached you, albeit inebriated, and poured his soul out to you. I think he waxed poetry about your pretty nose apart from the taunting lips and gorgeous eyes and a beard of magnificent proportions. And you invited him to your bed—well, the hallway. Don’t worry: I took care of that—albeit inebriated.”

Dis coughed. “It was still your wine.”

“As I have told your brother, you don’t have to drink it,” Bilbo said. 

“And what about you?” she asked, arching a brow. “Can you get drunk?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “It’d be sad if a demon of good cheer couldn’t. I merely chose not to at the moment, for obvious reasons.” He gestured toward Víli and Dwalin who were dancing wobbly on the table as Thorin cheered them on while throwing dishware at them. “You’re men-folk are an odd sort, aren’t they?”

“You have no idea,” Dis agreed. “Thank you for stopping me. If I can’t get drunk, I just watch my brother make a fool of himself.”

“Not your husband?”

“Ugh, husband…of all the rotten luck,” Dis muttered. “At least it’s not Dwalin.”

“True, he’s eyes only for a cute little scribe.”

“Do tell,” Dis said, smirking. “And something to drink would be nice.” Bilbo handed her a glass filled with an amber liquid.

“Apple cider, my lady?” he offered. Dis took it. “If I may direct your attention to the other side of the hall,” He pointed in that direction, pointing at a trio of rather handsome Dwarves. Dis arched a brow at them. “The youngest,” Bilbo said, pointing at one with a bit of a bowl cut, which, if anyone was being honest, seemed a rather cruel thing to do to one’s hair.

Dis spotted him. One brother, with an odd hair style that she guessed was meant to emulate a star, was patting his back as he poured back drink after drink. She nodded. “I approve. Dwalin surprisingly has good taste.”

“I know right?” Bilbo asked. “Who would’ve guessed that big ball of meat would have eyes for someone so adorable and probably a vocabulary that surpasses his.”

“Dwalin is more intelligent than he looks,” Dis said. “Not that I’m defending him. Anyone who’s a friend of my brother has got to have a screw loose somewhere.”

“I had guessed so,” Bilbo said. “I’ve yet to see any of his…friends (as you call them) have any sort of sense, common or otherwise _except_ you. You’re remarkably brilliant for someone with a brother who’d dabble in magic he can’t possibly control.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“That was a compliment,” Bilbo said, pouting at her, “Duck!” He pulled her down as a dirty, but empty, plate flew through the air and shattered on the wall. Dis and Bilbo peered over the table.

“I think we need reassurance of who it is that wears the pants in this family, my dear lady.”

“I think we do,” she said, standing up and taking a deep breath, “THORIN!”

Thorin paused, another golden plate in his hand. 

“Put that down. Now,” Dis growled. 

Thorin set the plate down and backed away. Bilbo bit his lip to keep from giggling. He didn’t think he’d come across something so hilarious since his cousin Flambard accidently set a water sprite on fire. 

Granted it didn’t do much, but she was rather furious with him and never returned to the Shire afterward. 

“You two, get off the tables before you break your necks.”

“Mmmmake us,” Víli said. 

Dis strode from behind her table and approached her husband. She seized his trouser leg and yanked it. Víli screeched, arms flailing, and fell. The hall erupted in cackles as Dwalin slid down, misjudging the distance, and banged his elbow against a chair’s armrest. 

Bilbo’s shoulders shook. “My lady, I wish you were my master. I could live with having you for my master. I could see myself actually obeying you.” He presented her with a tray, “Chocolate truffles?”

“Not now. But Bilbo, I know what you mean. You’re wasted on my brother.”

“Tell me about it. He only has fun when he’s drunk,” Bilbo said, clucking his tongue as Thorin poked Víli—who had been rendered unconscious from the fall—with his sheathed sword. 

“Dis, you killed your husband!” he shouted. Bilbo walked through the table and pressed his ear to Víli’s chest. “Why did you kill your husband?!” 

Bilbo snapped his fingers and Thorin’s mouth shut tight. He glared at Bilbo and tried to fit his finger through his mouth to pry his lips open. Bilbo ignored him, listening to Víli’s heartbeat. 

“Not dead,” he said. “Just drank too much.” Thorin pointed at his mouth. Bilbo blinked and hummed. “No, I like you better this way.”

“It is more appealing, Thorin,” Dis said. “But it sort defeats the purpose of drinking.”

“It does, but it’s still entertaining,” Bilbo said, standing up and snapping his fingers again. A carpet appeared under Víli and lifted him in the air. “I’m going to take him to bed. He’s done partying for the night.”

“That would be wise,” Dis agreed.

Thorin glared at him then groaned at Dis, holding his hand out and drew his finger over it. Dis furrowed her brow. “Do you need something, Nadad? Maybe you should go to bed too.”

Thorin glared at her, but Dis only smiled and led him out of the room. “Enjoy the rest of your night, she said, pushing Thorin out of the hall.

#

“I made it clear I wanted you to behave!” Thorin bellowed at Bilbo. 

“I did behave,” Bilbo said, offended. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Víli has a concussion.”

“That was his wife,” Bilbo corrected, “You know. You’re sister. And you were panicking because you thought she killed him. I glued your mouth closed to shut you up. Besides, he’ll be fine. And I did tell you, I’m not responsible for the quantity of wine you or your men consume. So maybe, just maybe, stop blaming me for everything that goes wrong in your life. Here, sit down and eat your greasy breakfast.”

“I’m gaining weigh from eating all this…grease. Am I?”

“Probably,” Bilbo said. “Look, you’re meeting with Elves today. Do you really want to be hung over when you do?”

“No. Not particularly,” he said. “But afterwards…”

“There will be plenty of ale and beer and spirits—all that you want.”

Thorin sighed, sitting at the table. He didn’t catch Bilbo’s smirk as he did. His headache abated and the room spun a little bit. He blinked, trying to focus. “Are you sure I’m sober?”

“It’s like you never drank at all in your life,” Bilbo said, grinning at him, “Ready to meet with the Elves?”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Balin says you must.”

“Then I guess I should go.” Thorin stood and wobbled, steadying himself on the table. “I don’t feel sober, Bilbo.”

“Trust me, you are. Would I lie to you?”

“Yes. You lie,” he licked his lips, “All the fucking time.”

“Well that’s points for trust, now is it? Get out of here and give those elves some hell, yeah?”

“Yeah…that sounds fun,” Thorin stumbled out of the room and Bilbo followed. Dis arched a brow at him. 

“Is he…”

“Yes.”

“Can I?”

“I would be insulted if you didn’t, my lady,” Bilbo said, offering her his arm.


	7. Chapter 7

The Elvenking marched out of the palace in huff, shoulders shaking in the wake of his anger.

Within the room, Dis hid her face behind a hand, Balin and Dwalin helped hold Thorin upright as he groaned, forehead damp with sweat.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You’ll be all right,” Balin assured him before rounding on Bilbo and Dis. “You foul little demon!”

“Foul?!” Bilbo cried, “Why I _never_! It was just a joke. Besides, no one seems to like Elves anyway. I don’t see why getting him _drunk_ would be considered foul.”

“It was a harmless prank, Balin,” Dis said. “Admittedly we can’t present Thorin to the Men like this, but I am willing to handle Bard on my own. It’s not as though they’ll have a choice. They need our aid after what the Orcs did. I care not for whatever aid the Elves offer unless it comes specifically from the Lady of the Golden Wood herself _or_ from Rivendell. Thranduil is haughtier than I like. He sees himself as far too superior to us and I, personally, see no value in an alliance with such an arrogant tree-shagger.”

Balin huffed, hands on his hips and shook his head.

“The Men will not appreciate speaking with you. They are not used to seeing women in positions of power.”

“Yet I _am_ in a position of power. If they don’t like it, they can wait for Thorin to be well enough to meet with them. However, I have the feeling Bard is a bit pressed for time.”

Bilbo’s grin widened. “Can I see that?”

“No,” Balin snapped. “You will take Thorin back to his room and make him better, however way you do that.”

Bilbo pouted. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“You _did_ do it on purpose!” Dwalin snarled.

Thorin whacked his arm weakly, muttering about a headache.

“Okay,” Bilbo said. “Maybe I did do it on purpose. I certainly didn’t think it through.”

“Actually I would like Bilbo to be with me at the meeting,” Dis said, smirking. “Thorin will be fine. It’s just a little booze. Give him a couple days without alcohol and he’ll be fine.”

“This is your king we’re talking about.”

“He is king first to many, I know,” Dis said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But to me, first and foremost, he is my brother and my king second. If I want to cuff his head, I will. If I say give him a couple days off to sober up, I expect my order to be obeyed. Is that clear?”

Balin cleared his throat. “Yes, your highness.”

He waved at the guards and they helped Thorin off the throne and led him to his home.

“Bilbo,” Dis said. “Make sure our guests from Dale have a decent spread and the finest wine if you will?”

Bilbo grinned. “I see what you did there. It shall be done, my lady.” He bowed low, arms swept out and tail swishing like a cat’s in the air.

Dis smirked. “Then get to it.”

Bilbo looked up. “You enjoy this too much.”

“My apologies,” she said. “I’ll tone down the orders.”

“Thank you.” He straightened and clapped his hands.

A table appeared in the center of the room big enough to fit the Men due to arrive.

Three silver pitchers of wine were spread along the table with matching silver goblets. Two goblets, however, were golden set at the seats farthest from the door and nearest to the throne.

The one at the end, however, was smaller, more intricate and a fourth pitcher of gold and glass was set before it with an amber liquid.

“Cider,” he clarified, aiming to rub Dis’ belly. She slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“If you insist,” he sighed, stepping away from her. “Shall I also add some food…perhaps chocolate and maybe cheese?”

“Actually they’ll be hungry. They’ll want more than some sweets and cheese.”

Bilbo clapped his hand again and a full meal of potatoes, steak, and warmed vegetables appeared. Dis arched a brow at him and Bilbo clapped his hands behind his back.

“It will not be said that the Lady Dis is a poor hostess. If it were up to me, you’d be queen under the mountain.”

Dis shook her head. “I love my brother, but he is a good king even if he is an idiot. Let’s just say…I’m the power behind throne.”

Bilbo hummed, “Queen in all but name.”

“Precisely,” she said, winking at him. “And I am content with my position as is.”

“I like it! My Lady is a rose in full bloom who weathered many seasons.”

“Don’t forget I’m a married woman,” she said, approaching the chair.

Bilbo pulled it out for her and helped her up—it was a rather high chair for a Dwarf—before pushing her in and leaned against the armrest.

“I wouldn’t dream of forgetting it, even if I am a little jealous of him.”

Dis chuckled and the doors opened.

A group of Men entered. Similar to Dwarves in some ways, with shorter beards and hair reaching their shoulders rather than flowing down their backs they were about the height of Elves with a less haughty demeanor—still quite haughty, though.

At the front of the group was a man dressed in black with a furred coat over his shoulders. His eyes were dark and his facial hair sparse in comparison to that of Dwarves’.

“Welcome King Bard of Dale,” Dis said, “Please, gentlemen, have a seat and eat your fill.”

“Where is King Thorin?” he asked.

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. How rude!

Dis merely raised her eyebrow, unimpressed. “My brother is currently indisposed and if you would truly rather discuss our alliance in these hard times with _him_ , then it will have a couple days. Or you can talk to me and get it over with during lunch. I’m sure you and your entourage are hungry.”

“And this…thing?” he asked, looking at Bilbo.

“I’m a demon, thank you!”

“Under my and my brother’s employ,” Dis said. “Again, Bard, you can discuss your concerns with me or you can wait until my brother is well enough to meet with you. However, given the situation in Dale since the Orcs had besieged our lands, I think it would be prudent to move our discussions along as quickly and painlessly as possible. It’s your choice. Either way you choose, I encourage you to eat and drink your fill.”

Bard looked at the others and nodded. Chairs scraped on the stone floor. Food and drink was passed around and soon, the atmosphere lifted to a merrier gathering.

The Men laughed and joked as Dis and Bard discussed politics and trade quietly. Bilbo, on the other hand, flitted around, listening for signs of treachery or something _equally_ undesirable.

And found none.

Men they may be, but these Men, at least, were somewhat honorable.

Good.

Bilbo didn’t want anyone causing the dwarves any trouble after all he had done for them.

Perhaps he made the wine a bit stronger than he meant to as a Man got to his feet and praised Dis’ beard. Dis arched a brow at Bilbo, who only shrugged. It was bound to happen at some time.

Besides, her beard really was lovely.


	8. Chapter 8

“I ordered you to not cause trouble!” Thorin bellowed once his hangover had subsided. “I commanded you to behave, but it’s like you’ve wax in your ears! I am _never_ touching anything you give me again!”

“Well, let me put it this way: you may have command over me, but perhaps you should consider being a tad bit more specific in your orders, _master_ ,” Bilbo said with a measure of sarcastic flourish.

Thorin glared at him.

“You trapped me here,” Bilbo continued. “If you think, for a moment, I’m going to roll over and cooperate, you’re very much mistaken!”

“You weren’t what I wanted anyway,” Thorin sneered. “I wanted a demon who was large, powerful, and fear inspiring. You’re presence here has been near useless!”

Bilbo’s shadow grew and he growled, bearing his teeth. His tail swished like a cat’s when on the prowl. He cut the distance between them, eyes flashing and he dug his nails into Thorin’s shoulders.

“Given the mistakes you made in summoning _me_ , you should consider yourself lucky. Any other demon would have slaughtered you and left only chaos in his wake. Sure, the Orcs would be gone. But Erebor would also be gone. Dale would be gone. Everything would eventually fall to ruin because your stupidity. So think of it this way: you got a demon of good cheer instead of a balrog, you got lucky— _very, ridiculously_ lucky. So do _not_ look at me and say my ‘presence’ is useless. I’ve been very merciful, Thorin son of Thrain. I did what you asked. I aided you with all that I could. My being here still is on _you_ and your foolishness. And I will retaliate and rebel against my captivity in whatever way I can. If you want me to stop, send me home.”

He let go and pulled away, straightening his tunic and strode out of the room.

Thorin sighed, rubbing his shoulders. Bilbo hadn’t dug his claws too deeply into him—he didn’t feel any blood seeping out—but the encounter left him more shaken than he assumed it would.

He left his room, heading to the dining hall. The guards stared at him bug-eyed and a servant girl dropped a vase. She squeaked and immediately got to work picking up the shards, cheeks bright red. Thorin furrowed his brow and continued on his way.

The stares he was getting—perplexed, horrified, embarrassed—made him wonder…

“I swear, she’s going to kill me, Dwalin!” Víli said, “I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or just in general but…”

“Hey, Dis is _your_ wife. I lucked out and nabbed a scribe. It’s not my fault you and Dis slept together while drunk off your asses.”

“Dwalin, Víli,” Thorin called, approaching them.

They glanced at him once and averted their gaze. Thorin narrowed his eyes.

“What are you two doing?”

“We could ask you the same thing, your majesty,” Víli said.

“Yeah, aren’t you chilly?” Dwalin asked.

“No.”

“How can you not be cold? I’m freezing?”

“I’d give you, uh, points for guts, but, Thorin I don’t think Balin or Dis or the others are going to appreciate…um…this,” Dwalin said.

“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You could say that,” Víli said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“They’ll have to live with it,” Thorin said.

Dwalin and Víli tried to stop him, but he pushed them out of his way and opened the doors.

“Gentlemen, my apologies for the delay, I’ve been otherwise indisposed.”

No one answered. In fact, they were busy staring at him wide eyed. Dis was looking down at a slip of parchment.

“Sire, are you feeling all right?” Balin asked.

“Uh…Yes,” he said. “Why?”

‘W-well…” he nudged Dis, who looked at him, then at Thorin. She shrieked and stood, storming at him. She pinched his ear quite hard and Thorin hissed as she twisted it.

“Gentlemen, I apologize, we will convene tomorrow.” She pulled him out. “Are you still drunk?” she asked. “Why are you running around naked?!”

“What are you talking about? I’m not—Bilbo…”

“Again? What did you do this time? Never mind! Go get some clothes on!”

“Dis, that’s the thing! I _am_ wearing clothes. They’re just invisible!”

“I don’t care!” she shrieked, “You fix this! Apologize to Bilbo for whatever you did to make him do _this_ or so _help me_ , Thorin, I’ll take over the throne and you can live the rest of your life in your room!”

“That’s not as much of a threat as you think.”

Dis twisted his ear again and he cried out.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll talk to him!”

“You two,” Dis said, rounding on Víli and Dwalin, “Escort the king to his chambers and make sure that the rest of his clothes hasn’t been turned invisible!”

Víli and Dwalin rescued Thorin from Dis’ grasp, heading back to his room.

“What exactly did you do to Bilbo to make him do this?” Víli asked.

“I made him angry,” Thorin admitted weakly.

“Well, apologize to him. Grovel if you must,” Dwalin said. “Just fix this.”

Thorin nodded. He didn’t have much of a choice, it seemed, unless he wanted his clothes to stay invisible to everyone _but_ himself. Víli and Dwalin waited in his parlor while he changed.

“Well?” he asked, once he came out of his closet.

Víli shook his head. “Still naked,” he said.

Thorin groaned. “They were fine when I put them on!”

“Well, they aren’t now,” Dwalin said, snorting.

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo?” he called out, looking around. “Bilbo, I’m sorry. Please turn my clothes back to normal.”

“Now was _that_ so hard?” Bilbo asked, appearing between Víli and Dwalin.

“Just _please_ make my clothes normal again,” Thorin begged.

Bilbo snapped his fingers. “There. Happy?”

“Yeah, that’s better,” Víli said.

“Much better,” Dwalin agreed. “That was far too much of you than I ever want to see.”

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo, we are trying to get you home. I promise. And I will… _work_ at being more…sympathetic to your situation.”

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you.”

“But no more pranks.”

“That will depend.” He vanished. Dwalin and Víli turned to Thorin.

“Depend?” Víli asked. “Depend on what?”

“I’ve no clue,” Thorin admitted, running his hand through his hair.

#

“I think I may have found it!” Balin said, setting a decently large book on the table. Bilbo peered over his shoulder at the drawing. “What do you think?”

“And the wizard?” Bilbo asked.

“We still don’t know if our inquiry for him even _reached_ him,” Balin admitted. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could think of many things that could happen, but this time, someone else with better attention to detail should draw it,” Bilbo said, giving Thorin a pointed look.

Thorin rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be sassy with me, _your majesty_.”

“How many times will I have to apologize for this?”

“Only until I’m home and if this gets me home, then you can forget all about me if you like,” Bilbo said. “Until then, I will continue to make your life a living hell.”

He grinned, bearing his fangs at Thorin.

“And if this does work, I’m going to miss you,” Dis said.

“He got you pregnant!” Thorin snapped. Dis, Balin, and Bilbo stared at him.

“Technically, _Víli_ got me pregnant,” Dis said. “Otherwise my baby would be half-demon and I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Bilbo agreed. “I would know.”

Thorin huffed. “I meant he was behind your…sudden and very unexpected baby because of the alcohol he gave you at the feast.”

“Again, it’s not my problem if they drink something I provide,” Bilbo said with an air of tiredness. Thorin rounded on him, ready to argue when Dwalin and Víli ran in.

“ORCS!!!” Dwalin shouted at the same time Víli said:

“AZOG IS COMING!!! HE BRINGS A BALROG WITH HIM!!!”

Dis rested her hand on her belly. Thorin slumped in his chair. The blood in Balin’s face receded, leaving him ashen and braced against the table.

Bilbo turned to Thorin. “I suppose this is _also_ my fault?” he asked. “Since it was my alcohol he was supposed to drink?”

“Not now, Bilbo,” Thorin said.

Bilbo slammed his palm against the table, making the Dwarves jump.

“Yes, now!” he shouted. “I had told you that I have no control over whether people drink and eat my food and now proof is right in your face! To add, he summoned a Balrog, so we’ll forgo the much desired apologies and plan to evacuate.”

“We cannot run,” Dis said.

“You don’t have a choice!” Bilbo shouted. “A balrog is far more powerful than I have ever been and I cannot feasibly defeat one. I’m level 5! A balrog is at _least_ a level 13 Demon! I have no chance at defeating one even at _that_ level and we don’t know how powerful this demon will be. And if he’s controlling it, then we will not survive. We _have_ to leave Erebor, send word to the Men and Elves. They need to leave too.”

“Erebor is the only Dwarf settlement for leagues,” Thorin said. “You are asking us to abandon our home.”

“If you don’t leave, you will lose everything. Including your lives, your children will burn. You’re food, gone. You’re water, beyond saving. Everything will be gone and the survivors, if any, will eventually perish.” Bilbo crossed his arms. “I have done what you asked. I helped you defeat this Orc once and it is not my fault he got away.”

“I know that,” Thorin asked. “But there has to be a way to defeat him without abandoning Erebor.”

“There is no third option!” Bilbo said. “Thorin, I know I caused a lot of trouble for you, and I admit I enjoyed it. That doesn’t mean I wish you ill. I don’t want you or your people to die.”

“Then help me come up with a solution that is _not_ running away,” Thorin said. “Let us truly fight together, for once, Bilbo, as warriors—as brave lords.”

“I’m not a lord.”

“You are the son of Belladonna. Regardless who she really was, she did help us once. I would expect no less from her son. So please, for good or ill, may this be the hour in which we draw swords together. Prove that even a Demon of good cheer can be a formidable foe.”

Bilbo huffed. “Is that an order?”

“Will you construe it?”

“No.”

“Then we leave in the morning.”

“You’re mad.”

Thorin shrugged. He stood and left the room, shouting for his army to prepare for battle. Bilbo leaned on the table and sighed.

_We’re going to die. Mother, help us._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm...this is the character death chapter.

Thorin could see the fire approaching them. It looked as though everything burned from a pillar of coal and fire. Bilbo touched his shoulder.

“It isn’t too late to change your mind,” Bilbo said. “We can still get your people out and to safety.” Thorin turned to him.

“But for how long?” he asked. “This is the better option.”

“We cannot be sure of that!”

“No, we can’t. But I would rather die trying to stop a foe too great than flee like a coward and watch my people’s homeland burn.”

Bilbo frowned and moved his hand away. “It is your choice, Thorin. But I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Thorin cleared his throat. “You’re certainly welcome to think so.” Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms, likely to refrain from slapping the back of Thorin’s head, and muttered under his breath. Thorin led his army forward to meet the Orc.

#

Mortals were idiots.

Some were smart enough to have a sense of self-preservation, but Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror was _not_ one of them. Bilbo was certain he was going to go down in history as the biggest idiot in Arda ever to exist.

Bilbo hoped idiocy wasn’t genetic. If it was, then Erebor was in trouble. Either way, he couldn’t abandon the idiot king and his men. Thorin might think that Bilbo’s wisdom on running was cowardice, but Bilbo was anything _but_ a coward. He was the son of Atropa Belladonna, the most adventurous, bravest, strongest Hobbit to exist.

Cowardice wasn’t even in his blood.

Hobbits didn’t measure bravery in terms of strength or ability, but in wisdom and intelligence. A demon’s class, however, was always measured in its brawn rather than its brain. The most a Hobbit ever hoped to be classed as would be a level seven.

But where a Hobbit lacked in muscle, they _might_ make it up in cleverness, and Bilbo was _very clever_. As they approached the Balrog and Azog, Bilbo could see that the Orc was cocky, smirking at them as they approached.

“ _So this is your demon, Thorin son of Thrain?_ ” Azog asked, his foul grin twisting to a sneer. “ _How is it a puny, weak thing best my army so readily?_ ”

Bilbo tuned him out. He glanced at the Balrog who flexed. Bilbo shook his head.

Balrogs were strong, but they were quite stupid too. This one didn’t look too smart, which gave Bilbo _a little_ hope. He might not be able to best it at strength, but he _could_ outsmart it.

“ _Squash the fly_!” Azog said, pointing his mace at Bilbo.

The Balrog stepped forward and Thorin’s army backed off. Bilbo took a breath and held his head high. It raised a fist and brought it down on him. Just as it was about to hit him, Bilbo dodged and took one of Dwalin’s axes.

“Oi! Give it back!”

“In a bit,” Bilbo called. “You’ve plenty more weapons, so don’t fuss so much!”

Thorin barked orders to not engage the demons while he approached Azog, freeing his sword from the sheath.

Bilbo dodged the Balrog a second time, running between its legs and embedding the ax into its ankle. For a brief moment, the blade turned red and the Balrog screamed. Its voice shook the earth and Bilbo stumbled back, spreading his feet wider in hopes of securing his footing. The Balrog rounded on him, drawing its own weapon and Bilbo wrinkled his nose.

Truly how could _anyone_ like _this_? It was dreadfully annoying having to fight. Talking things out have always been better—far more civilized.

Sadly, not everyone had a head for common sense. It brought its weapon down on Bilbo, who dodged again. He sort felt like a tiny flea biting a dog or a cat.

He probably was—

His vision went spotty.

 _Oh, no_ , Bilbo thought. He backed away, blinking. His hands shook from holding Dwalin’s ax.

On the other side of the field, Thorin screamed. His weapons had been knocked out of his hands. Bilbo swayed on his feet. He couldn’t see clearly, his vision swayed so violently.

 _“We aren’t made for fighting,”_ his mother had said once. _“We are clever, and love a party—we are peaceful people who have no head for fighting. No one knows what would happen if we tried to enter a battle, but I fear the result would be…catastrophic.”_

He could stop fighting. Let the Orc kill Thorin. That would get him home. He wanted to go home. And now it seemed attainable.

“Bilbo!”

He looked behind him at the army, trying to distract the Balrog as he gathered his wits.

Then he looked at Thorin again.

Idiotic or not, they were noble.

 _I’m sorry, Frodo_ , he thought, racing at Azog, ax in hand.

He blocked Azog’s mace, knocking it out of his hands. Bilbo sliced off Azog’s arm. The Orc shrieked. Following that, Bilbo, though his vision was splotching, swung the ax down on Azog, burying it in his chest.

The Balrog roared and vanished and Azog dropped to the ground, dead.

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Thorin said. Bilbo fell to his knees. He felt cold, “Bilbo?”

“You know, no one knew what would happen if a Demon of Good Cheer—a demon for peaceful times—were to fight in a war or battle,” Bilbo said. He felt arms around him and he was lifted up by a pair of strong arms. “I guess we know now.”

“You’ll be all right,” Thorin said. “I promise we’ll get you home. You can rest and we’ll get you back home to your nephew.”

“I don’t think I’m going home, Thorin. I killed. It’s too late. If I do survive, I won’t be who I was. I’m certain of it.”

“You’re turning to dust.”

“Fading,” Bilbo said, “I should hate you.”

“I know. Farewell, good Demon…if you are to die, then I wish to part in friendship from you.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Farewell, King under the Mountain. This is a bitter adventure if it must end so and not a mountain of gold can amend it. I am glad that I have shared in your perils—that has been more than any of my people deserves.”

“There is more in you of good than you know. Some courage and some wisdom blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

“So it would,” Bilbo agreed. “So it would. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell.”

#

Thorin stared at the sand left in his hands. His throat felt tight, constricted. He swallowed.

“Get me something to carry this with!” he ordered. “A vial, a pouch—I don’t care what! I am not leaving what remains of my demon here!”

Víli approached, handing him a bottle, and helped shovel the ashes inside.

 _Dis is going to be furious_ , he thought once they corked the bottle and Thorin stood. Dwalin approached them, retrieving his ax. He wiped the black blood off it and sheathed it.

“That’s twice the little varmint saved our lives.”

Thorin scoffed. “I’d give anything for one of his pranks right now.” No one responded. Heads bowed in respect before they turned and faced the mountain again. They met Dis by nightfall outside the mountain.

“Where is Bilbo?” she asked.

Thorin showed her the bottle and she covered her mouth. Víli embraced her as she processed what had become of the demon who’d become her friend. Thorin handed the bottle to her.

“You connected with him better than I. You would know where he’d like to be put to rest.”

“I have an idea,” Dis said quietly, taking the bottle in her hands and pulling out of Víli’s embrace. “The east side of the mountain, so he can see the sun,” she said, heading to the eastern face the mountain, emptying the dust into the air. Dis sung a ballad as the dust dispersed.

Thorin stood by her side, still processing that Bilbo was gone. Dis took his hand.

“We should go inside, Thorin. We’ll have a party in his honor later. Right now, we should get some rest.” She sighed. “Goodness, I’m going to miss him.”

“I will too,” Thorin said.

“He turned your clothes invisible.”

Thorin nodded. “I said I’d miss him. Not the things he did.” Dis swatted his arm and walked inside with him. Dwalin and Víli approached, holding something between them.

“What is this?” Thorin asked.

“Bilbo just died. Can’t this wait?”

Dwalin cleared his throat. “We _would_ wait, but,” they lifted the being between them.

It was a child. With pointed ears, large and hairy feet, fangs, and a tail swishing behind him. Around his neck was a collar with the same runes that were on Bilbo’s collar.

“Kid says he’s looking for his Uncle _Bilbo_.”

“Oh.”

“Have you seen him?” the demonling asked. “My names Frodo and I like chocolate and crackers. I know how to spit a mile away and…”

Thorin and Dis exchanged looks. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t look at me! I didn’t know this would happen. Kid—Frodo. How did you get here?”

“Same way my uncle did. I’d only be here if I was summoned or if something happened to him. I think. I don’t really know.”

“Okay…Dis?”

“How about we get the lad a room?”

“Good idea as any. Dwalin, Víli, it’ll okay, put him down.”

Dis knelt, whispering to Frodo, who looked confused, then sad. She embraced him, lifting him up in her arms and carried him back into the mountain. Thorin turned back to the bottle where Bilbo had been carried.

“I promise your nephew will be safe here. Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.” He bowed as though an invisible specter could reciprocate the gesture, and entered the mountain, hoping that Frodo Baggins wasn’t as mischievous as his uncle had been.

Otherwise, Erebor _might_ just be turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm...I am so so so sorry! :( *runs away*
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!!!


End file.
